Novum Consilium
by CausticCaz
Summary: This had not been his design, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate it. A look at Hannibal's changing feelings towards Will with a helping of hurt/comfort and some completely consensual porn. Slash, part 1 of a series.
1. Chapter 1

This had not been his design.

Regarding Will with dark eyes, Hannibal didn't attempt to smother the groan pulled from somewhere deep in his chest as the younger man rubbed against him, ducking his head to once again taste the warm sweetness of Will's mouth, thrusting his tongue into the welcoming cavern and swallowing the younger man's own sounds of need and want in the process. Pulling back from the kiss after a long moment, he trailed his lips across his stubble covered jaw and then down the column of his neck, nipping lightly as he went and Will arching into the touches, the fingers of one hand digging into Hannibal's silk covered hip and the other holding his shoulder in an almost vice-like grip.

Given Will's sleep-related issues, the suggestion that the profiler use one of Hannibal's spare rooms when cases brought him to Baltimore and the surrounding areas had seemed like a good one for a number of reasons. From Will's point of view, there was no denying that he felt safe within the confines of Hannibal's home and the psychiatrist's company was generally a welcome respite from the interactions he was used to and experienced with everyone else. The frisson of desire and want attached to the other man's presence, one that Will did his best to supress or at the very least ignore, had given him cause for concern not to mention the fact that he routinely awoke screaming, however he had still found himself stood on the older man's porch late one night with the vestiges of a particularly cruel sadist inhabiting his mind and leaving him cold from the inside out. From Hannibal's point of view, Will's presence in his home gave him a perfect opportunity to witness first hand his nocturnal disturbances, give him further insight into a mind that intrigued and fascinated him with or without the fire that had started to burn in his brain and slowly but surely destabilise him.

Will had sought sanctuary eight times since the suggestion had been made over dinner two and a half months ago. Three of those occasions had been within the last week and none of them tied to a local case. The continued fever consuming his mind was giving rise to more and more disassociation, more nightmares, more sleepwalking and rapidly so. It was something Hannibal had noted with far less pleasure than he would have imagined previously, a thought that he had been trying not to examine too closely - one of several in fact where Will was concerned. For a man who prided himself on his self-awareness and knowledge, that in and of itself would have been alarming if Lecter had been a man prone to the feelings of other men. He knew exactly what sort of creature he was, or had thought he did, but over the last few weeks the tiniest slivers of doubt had crept into his mind as his thoughts turned to Will at the most incongruous moments.

Tonight Will had been waiting on his doorstep when he'd returned from a brief visit to the local market for herbs before it closed, crouched to the side of the door jamb with his back pressed against the wall and his rucksack at his feet. The physical and mental pain radiating from his tense frame had been palpable as Hannibal had got out of his car, cataloguing the increased level of the other man's tics as he approached. Will's hands twitched, his head moving jerkily, a ball of nervous fight or flight energy and it was clear he had chosen to flee to Hannibal. Crouching down in front of him he'd appraised the younger man with sharp eyes, discreetly scented him at the same time for an indication of the current level of his fever, then simply waited.

_"It's 8:17pm, I'm in Baltimore, Maryland and my name is Will Graham," Will intoned quietly, shakily, eyes glued to Hannibal's Italian leather shoes. _

_Satisfied, Hannibal extended his hand to the younger man and began to rise._

_"Come inside, Will," he instructed, disproportionately pleased when Will slipped his hand into his and allowed Hannibal to help him up. "Have you eaten?"_

_Picking up his rucksack, Will gave a jerky shake of his head, gaze still somewhere below the other man's knees. _

_"I prepared a wonderful recipe for Boeuf en Daube yesterday with dried orange peel and cep mushrooms, it should be ready shortly. I think you will like it,"_ _the psychiatrist stated with a small smile as he unlocked the front door and ushered the younger man over the threshold with a carefully placed hand in the small of his back._

Lecter had busied himself adding the finishing touches to the 'beef' whilst Will had silently occupied his now customary place in the armchair in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a glass of sweetened tea and listening to the other man reverently explain the ingredients and processes that had gone into the dish. It had taken over an hour, but by the time Hannibal had plated the slow cooked meat, Will had been able to at least raise his gaze to the other man's chin when he thanked him. Whilst still present, the tics had decreased considerably and his voice was steadier – there was something comforting and reassuring about being sat in Hannibal's kitchen while he worked. In the past, the irony of Will's apparent peace in his kitchen had amused Hannibal; more recently it had given him a feeling akin to indigestion.

_"This is delicious,"_

_Hannibal paused to glance up at the other man, the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile as he inclined his head at the compliment. It was the first thing Will had said of his own volition since Hannibal had found him on his doorstep. Other than ascertaining what Will wanted to drink, the psychiatrist had asked nothing of him and once again Will had been immensely grateful for the older man's perception and lack of demands. There was a lack of expectation attached to their interactions that made the profiler breathe more easily in his presence. Even during their more formal 'conversations', truth be told Hannibal expected very little of him, only asking that whatever Will chose to share with him he was to be honest about it. On the whole he was._

_ "I'm glad you are enjoying it," he replied, raising his fork to his mouth and taking another bite. Nervously licking his lips, Will forced himself to fleetingly meet his gaze._

_"I - I feel like I need to say sorry," he offered, annoyed at the stutter he couldn't prevent. A slight frown on his face, Hannibal carefully placed his cutlery down on his plate before dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his napkin._

_"What for?"_

_There was genuine confusion in his tone and Will wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse._

_"For turning up on your doorstep. Again," he added, a self-deprecating smile twisting his lips. It looked more like a grimace. _

_"I told you once that my door is always open to you, Will, and I wouldn't have extended the invitation for you to stay whenever you wished if I had not been prepared to honour it," Hannibal stated, a softness and weight to his words designed to reassure the younger man. "That is what friends do,"_

_"I'm not used to having real friends," Will admitted softly._

Neither was Hannibal, but it was not a fact that he was prepared to share with the profiler, his façade too carefully crafted for that. He had a myriad of acquaintances, people to entertain and feed, but there was not and never had been someone that he could truly call a friend. Nor anyone that he had even remotely wanted to. The fondness for Will that had slowly taken root was an alien concept and completely unknown, forcing rapid and on-going re-evaluation of his plans for the young man once Hannibal had been prepared to acknowledge it. If he hadn't now found otherwise, he would have easily believed that he wasn't capable of caring for another being. A man of science, he had no choice but to acceptthe empirical evidence presented by the vague discomfort in his chest whenever Will's distress flared. Or the warm sensation in his gut whenever Will met his gaze or smiled.

Desire was not an alien concept.

It had become hard to ignore the sharp flare of sheer _want_ he experienced in Will's company. The urge to take his face in his hands and kiss him so thoroughly he forgot to breathe was intense; not one prone to flights of fancy, it had been disconcerting to find himself imagining his tongue in Will's mouth and his hands on his body, his teeth grazing his neck, no matter how welcome a distraction it might be from the pathetic, banal drivel spouted by his patients during sessions. Sometimes he'd wondered what might be revealed to Will in the throes of passion, whether the empath's keen mind would see through his person-suit as Du Maurier called it, which led to him wondering what the younger man's reaction might be. Loathed though he'd been to admit it, it was that which had prevented him from acting on his desires; the thought of having to kill Will was not one he drew any pleasure from, and even the lack of treatment for his encephalitis had been beginning to sit a touch uneasily. He'd never considered himself one to play safe, the very nature of his appetites making it near impossible, however, where Will Graham was concerned that was exactly what he was doing: it was safer not to play with fire because, ultimately, playing with fire got you burnt and his freedom going up in smoke was too great a price to pay, even if it meant that he would never know Will in the way he truly craved.

_Will was lost in the depths of the fire when Hannibal joined him in the lofty sitting room, dark eyes flecked with orange and gold as he leant against the mantle and watched the steady burn. The older man stepped close to his side, close enough for Will to smell his expensive cologne, and offered him a glass containing two fingers of exceptionally fine single malt that the profiler readily accepted._

_"Thanks," Will stated, "For dinner. And not asking me how I feel,"_

_Hannibal's lips quirked into a half smile that Will almost felt comfortable returning, gaze sliding from the psychiatrist's mouth to his chiselled cheek and then finally to his eyes for a long moment. For a second, less than a second, as he met his gaze Will had one of the very rare flashes of empathy he experienced in Hannibal's company. It had happened only twice before, and it wasn't the all-seeing, all-knowing empathy he struggled to avoid with everyone else, something that both of them would have been grateful for if either of them had been fully aware. The simplest way that Will could describe it was as a fleeting imprint of something intangible that tonight left him warm and centred. Centred enough that the corners of his lips were still turned up as he watched Hannibal retreat and lower himself into one of the high-backed leather armchairs facing the fire._

_"How __**do**__ you feel?" _

_Mouth turning down again, Will let out a sharp breath and tiredly took the empty chair next to the other man, staring into his whiskey. The silence seemed to stretch between them for an age._

_"Tired," he offered slowly, swallowing convulsively before continuing and his speed picking up as if afraid that he wouldn't get the words out if it didn't. "Unstable. Like I'm broken and lost and I don't know how I'm going to get back. Or if I even can," _

_"You're not broken, Will. Perhaps a little bent, pushed to the limits of your endurance certainly, but I assure you that if I believed you to be broken you would know about it," Hannibal intoned, accent soothing even if the words were less so when they registered properly in Will's mind._

_"What, when I woke up medicated out of my skull in Chilton's 'care'?" _

_Rude and a touch acerbic though they were, there was no real venom behind his words, just exhaustion. In different circumstances the psychiatrist would have taken offence, but Hannibal knew Will's psyche far too well to take it as an insult or barb, it was purely a reflection of the man's deepest fears. He feared madness and the loss of self that would bring, and Hannibal's actions were directly leading him to believe that fear was becoming reality; it seemed only fair he let the churlishness go. The mouthful of red wine he took as he considered his answer tasted like ash._

He could have told him that as long as there was breath in his lungs Chilton wouldn't get within six feet of Will and live to tell the tale - he'd gut him like a fish if he so much as looked at him in the street. That he would rather be destitute than let such a poor excuse of a psychiatrist, let alone a human being, get his hands on a mind as brilliant and fascinating as his. Instead he had waited until his silence had forced Will's gaze to his, uncertainty and near terror at the prospect clouding the younger man's expression, then uttered one weighty word.

Never.

He hadn't made anything even remotely resembling a promise to anyone since Mischa, but Hannibal couldn't deny that's what it had been. A promise that no matter his own actions towards the younger man, Will would never suffer at the hands of another that way. Lecter didn't like to share.

The profiler had stared at him then with an intensity he'd only seen him exhibit previously at crime scenes and for a moment Hannibal had wondered if he were trying to read him in much the same way. Will had told him early on that he was quiet in a way that no one else he'd ever met had been, a welcome absence of emotions and motives and _noise_ that he struggled to filter out with the rest of the population. Hannibal had hoped that remained the case. Finally, satisfied with whatever he'd found with his scrutiny, Will had jerkily nodded his head and the pair had lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Will's need for sleep had eventually become too great, even though he was clearly fighting it as Hannibal glanced from his book to the other man from time to time. Lulled by the warmth of the fire, the alcohol in his system and the gentle strains of Handel Hannibal had opted for whist he read his head had begun to droop, his almost empty glass clasped negligently in one hand as he began to doze. Hannibal had taken the opportunity to study him, eyes raking over his form, noting the tight line of his tempting mouth and the tension that oozed out of him even in sleep. Beneath the plaid, Hannibal was certain Will would be a vision, if perhaps a little too slim. Watching until he was certain he was asleep he had placed his hardback on the table between them then silently slipped from his chair and leant down over him, his nose almost touching the exposed column of Will's neck, then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. His scent was a heady mix even with the repugnant aftershave that he still insisted on wearing; a fevered sweetness underpinned with Will's natural scent. Often it was spiced with fear and sweat and uncertainty, only occasionally did it hint at peace and calm. Tonight Will had seemed to be somewhere in-between with little fever to speak of.

Indulgence over, Hannibal had carefully pried the Whiskey glass from his grasp, deposited it next to his book then placed his hand on Will's shoulder as the other man stirred, smiling slightly as he watched him struggle to the surface. In soft tones he'd roused him, told him to go to bed. Fear then resignation had coloured Will's expression as he'd stretched slightly under Hannibal's hand to ease the kinks forming in his back before he'd slowly made his way towards the guest suite adjacent to the master bedroom.

The first time Will had appeared at his door had been a victory as far as Hannibal was concerned. He'd come to him on the back of losing time, the on-going case leaving him unsettled and the killer's darkness still lurking in his mind. His hesitance had been endearing and given Hannibal the opportunity to cement his place as someone to be trusted.

_Whilst it had seemed a good idea at first, now that he was faced with the reality of it Will had adopted a rabbit in the headlights look as he stood at the bottom of the stairs._

_"I should go, this isn't a good idea. I…sleepwalk,"_

_"I'm a light sleeper, I will wake should you leave your room and intercept you before you can go far. Or come to harm," Hannibal said, knowingly._

_Will had never told him about waking on the roof, but he felt as if somehow the other man knew. Or at least suspected._

_"I sweat…" he murmured, searching for a reason, any reason, why he shouldn't stay. _

_Hannibal simply shrugged. "Sheets can be washed,"_

There had been no protestations tonight. Hannibal had watched him climb the stairs and disappear out of sight, listening for the click of the bedroom door before turning towards his office. Sitting down at his desk he had pulled out his sketch pad, sharpened his pencil and begun to draw, alert to every sound from upstairs.

By the time he had laid the foundations of Will's sleeping form on paper, he was ready to retire for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Hannibal had quickly but thoroughly secured the house and doused the lights before moving upstairs. Although he had a comprehensive alarm system, it was only ever activated in his absence – he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Will that he was a light sleeper. He slept well and on the whole extremely peacefully, but the slightest out of place noise woke him with little trouble and to a state of alertness that would see any unwelcome visitor easily subdued. Or killed and eaten, depending on the circumstances.

He had paused outside the door to the guest suite but heard nothing from within, briefly tempted to enter the room and check on Will only to stiffly turn and prowl towards his own bedroom. He could acknowledge, even accept, that he had developed somewhat unconventional - for him - feelings for the man, but that didn't mean he had to act on the out of character thoughts that crossed his mind. It would set a potentially dangerous precedent and he was already aware of how close to the precipice he actually was. Hannibal never did anything on a whim, anything without thought to the consequences and what the outcome of any given course of action could be, and he'd already established that the outcome to acting on his desires for Will would most likely be severe burns. He would have been remiss not to take his own sound advice, but that didn't change the fact that all he had really wanted to do was enter Will's room and crawl up the length of his body, the other man's hands in his hair as Hannibal possessed him completely. The thought had almost made him shiver as he had carefully stripped off his clothes and prepared for bed.

Settling on his side under silken covers, unsurprisingly Hannibal had found it hard to think of little other than Will and the turn his relationship with the younger man was taking. Or perhaps had already taken. Generally speaking he was a man of destinations not journeys; as long as he got from A to B, it didn't matter to him if he took a detour to Z along the way. His destination when it came to Will had become clear as he'd observed and analysed him, firstly to satisfy the FBI and then to amuse himself. He'd ascertained rapidly though that Will was more than a simple amusement in so far as that once he'd seen the extent of his empathic abilities he also became a thing of interest. The few people that had interested him in the past had held a particularly celebrated place at his feasts once his curiosity had waned, so the fact that even early on his plans for Will most definitely did not involve him being carefully sautéed or flambéed, should have been an indicator that he was developing an affection for the profiler. Once Hannibal had caught the first faint trace of the virus now devouring his brain, the choice instead to frame him for The Ripper's crimes had seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up; it would satisfy his desire to be entertained whilst simultaneously allowing him to continue to stock his freezer, and although it would be a far more time-consuming process, it had been an endeavour that he had looked forward to as much as any hunt if not more so.

To have a plan, a destination, change so dramatically was something Hannibal had never experienced, but it appeared as though that's what was happening. There was no denying that his feelings where Will was concerned were more than a detour, and he found himself struggling to work out where he might end up - for a man who kept control over himself and his life as tightly as Lecter did it was more than a little unnerving. The wheels had already been put in motion with Cassie Boyle's and Marissa Schur's deaths and the circumstances surrounding Nicholas Boyle's demise, but events had not progressed to a point whereby they could not be stopped…what Hannibal needed to do was establish what the new destination was to be, both for himself but also for Will, and that was proving to be a hard task.

_He wasn't sure what had woken him at first but he knew he hadn't been asleep long, rousing from something more than a doze but less than a deep slumber. Hannibal lay deathly still and listened, his keen senses on high alert and actively seeking stimuli as he waited. He didn't have to wait long. _

_There was a low cry, a haunted, near pained sound carrying through the wall that separated the master bedroom from the adjacent guest suite. Throwing back the covers, he slipped from his bed and crossed the room in five strides before stepping out into the dark hallway, another cry and then another and another resonating through the air as he traversed silent floorboards, each one louder, more pained and more desperate than the last. Hannibal didn't stop to even think as he turned the door knob and stepped into Will's room, the sounds of terror intensifying as he did so to find him greeted by the panicked rustling of limbs tangled in sheets and breath coming in short, harsh pants. The smell of fear that blanketed the room made his own pulse quicken just slightly as he quickly moved towards the bed, thin shafts of moonlight highlighting Will's twisting, moaning form._

_"Will," Hannibal called to the other man softly as he approached, pausing only to flick on a bedside lamp and bathe the room in a subtle yellow glow. _

_Before him Will was drowning, hands fisted into the sodden, dark blue cotton bedclothes twisted around his legs and torso. His dark hair was matted to his head and sweat glistened on every inch of visible skin, his t-shirt having already been dispensed with at some point and now lying limp and heavy on the wooden floor. It appeared that this wasn't his first nightmare of the night, simply the first one Hannibal had been made aware of, and he called his name with more insistence as Will's cries continued._

_In his dream, the stag advanced on him again, head lowered to bring its antlers down to the best angle to run him through for a third time. To its right a bullet ridden Hobbs grinned, all teeth and unseeing eyes, the ground littered with macabre broken bodies that Will knew he would recognise if he looked properly and certain that Abigail was amongst them. He couldn't look, the black stag holding his attention, pinning him with its gaze and licking its maw at the blood coating Will's pierced chest as if it was not only going to gore him again but devour him afterwards for good measure. Still advancing it picked up speed, hooves thundering through the forest of his own making in time with the pounding in his head._

_Sat on the edge of the bed, Hannibal pulled back quickly enough to receive only a glancing blow to the shoulder as Will lashed out at his touch, fists flailing wildly but with more than enough power to wound. It was a reaction he hadn't anticipated, the two previous occasions he had woken Will from his dark dreams requiring little more than a shake of his shoulder and calling his name. Wherever he was, as he dodged another punch it was immediately apparent that light measures were not going to be enough._

_"Will!" _

_Another cry torn from his throat in response, Will flailed again and Hannibal quickly grabbed a wrist in each hand, fighting him to forcibly pull both arms in towards the centre of his chest and at the same time using his considerable strength to haul the other man into a sitting position. Once he had him upright, Hannibal moved with all the speed and skill that made him such a spectacular predator, straddling his thighs and wrapping his arms around the younger man in such a way that Will's arms were pinned tightly between their chests. The younger man struggled against him and under different circumstances it would have been exhilarating. On some level it still was, Hannibal mused absently, balling his hands into fists to better tense his arms as he stared at the tableau of fear etched onto the profiler's face, the other man's sweat seeping through the silken fabric of his pyjama shirt._

_"Will, it's 1:30am," he hazarded a guess, "You are in my home in Baltimore, Maryland," _

_His voice was steady, calm, belying the fact that Will was still fighting against him like a man possessed, although the strength of his movements was lessening. Hannibal scrutinised his face, looking for the first signs of a return to awareness and it finally came with a choked exhale and fingers scrabbling for purchase where they were trapped over his heart, fisting tightly in the silk. His eyes shot open a second later, wide but unfocused, staring straight through the older man as he gasped for breath and Hannibal flattened one warm palm against his rapidly cooling bare back, his thumb lightly stroking back and forth as a gesture of reassurance and comfort._

_"See me, Will," the older man urged, voice soft and accent thick. He wasn't sure quite why it mattered so much, but it did._

Will had seen him, clutched at him as if he was the only thing keeping him afloat whilst adrift in stormy seas, his forehead falling to Hannibal's shoulder as he had begun to shake out of fear and cold and sheer relief.

_"Will?"_

Hannibal had frozen when he felt dry lips insistently press against his neck, Will's hands never relinquishing their tight hold on his shirt, but he had made no move to stop the younger man. With hindsight he would come to realise that he had fallen over the precipice long before Will's mouth had blazed an urgent, needy trail up his neck to his own lips and _demanded_ entrance. A demand he had acquiesced to with very little hesitation in all honesty.

The kiss had left them both breathless as tongues duelled for dominance, Hannibal's hands ghosting over Will's back before finally threading one into his damp hair and the other resting at the juncture of neck and shoulder, thumb caressing his throat. It was only when air became a priority that he had withdrawn from the kiss, pulling at Will's bottom lip with his teeth before soothing the nip with his tongue as he withdrew.

_Hannibal licked his lips as he pulled back, the taste of Will a powerful aphrodisiac and something to be savoured as much as any vintage red in his wine cellar. As was the sight of Will looking somewhat debauched with his slightly flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, hair mussed and breathing heavily. Hannibal imagined that he looked much the same if the heavy-lidded stare Will was giving him was anything to go by, heat surging through his veins at the naked desire burning in his gaze but tempered by the realisation that Will was unflinchingly maintaining eye contact with him. Will seemed to sense where his thoughts were headed before Hannibal had the chance to give voice to them._

_"I know where I am, I know who I am," Will told him, hands finally letting go of Hannibal's shirt only to gravitate upwards to cup his face. Brushing his thumb across the fullness of Hannibal's bottom lip, Will's gaze darkened when he felt the other man's tongue swipe at the digit. "I know who I'm with,"_

_"Good," Hannibal murmured, licking his lips again. "Because I don't want to be doing this with anyone else,"_

_Will nodded, gaze flicking to the other man's mouth before leaning in to kiss him again, surrendering to Hannibal's will when his tongue probed between his lips and passionately began to map the contours of his mouth. Strong, sure hands caressed the lean planes of his back and shoulders before wrapping around his biceps mid kiss and Will found himself propelled sideways and backwards until they were mostly out of the damp sheets he'd been sleeping on, Hannibal now straddling his crotch._

_Leaning up on an elbow, Will reached for the buttons of the other man's pyjama top, making quick but careful work of the small fastenings despite the hands now exploring his chest and the light covering of hair there. Deft fingers skimmed over his nipples, sending a surge to his already half hard cock, before Hannibal effortlessly shrugged out of the silken material with his usual lithe grace. Will bit his lip as he realised just what was hidden beneath all the layers of carefully tailored fabric the other man usually wore, appreciating the toned muscles of Hannibal's chest and arms and contemplating what the rest of him might look like. Hannibal smiled, teeth showing, as he watched his reaction before doing some appreciating of his own, leaning down to press his lips to the smooth skin of Will's throat and enabling the younger man to touch him._

_Before long all Hannibal could smell was Will and the scent of their combined arousal, the fear of minutes earlier banished from his nose by heat and spice and deep, earthy notes. Will had only had to rake his nails down Hannibal's back before he was achingly hard, thinking about what it was going to be like to be buried inside him and fucking him into the mattress._

No, this had not been his design. His fantasy, maybe…

Hannibal bit down gently where neck joined shoulder, hands drifting to the waistband of Will's shorts and easing them down, a move that was met with gratitude as he freed the other man from the ever tightening constraints of his underwear. Watching Will from under his fringe, the older man moved backwards, leaving a trail of light nips and licks down the centre of his chest and over his stomach as he went, Will's hands tangling in his hair. There was something satisfying in the way that Will breathed his name and the hands in his hair tightened when he finally wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked him from base to tip. Something even more satisfying when after a few strokes Hannibal engulfed him in the wet warmth of his mouth and the younger man was reduced to a groan.

Hollowing out his cheeks, Hannibal gave a low hum of pleasure as he tasted Will for the first time, a bead of bitter saltiness allowing him to sample his essence and match scent to taste. Given the way that Will's stomach muscles were tensing against the urge to thrust up, he was almost, _almost_ tempted to make him come using just his mouth but the urge to be inside Will, to own him before granting him release, was too great.

_There will be plenty of time for that._

Hannibal wasn't sure where the thought had come from and didn't care in the slightest as need thrummed through his body. Pushing it to one side, he concentrated on taking Will as deep as he could; there would be plenty of opportunity to dissect the situation to death afterwards. He had never been one to deny himself pleasure in any facet of his life and the particular pleasure he was deriving from having Will writhing beneath him made him very vaguely wonder if he was exaggerating the risk having feelings for the younger man posed. The still rational part of his brain told him it was no exaggeration, but Hannibal consciously chose to ignore it.

It had been years since Hannibal had engaged in sex. Not because he didn't have urges and not for lack of people showing an interest, purely and simply because it was invariably an emotionally messy affair unless of the paid for variety, and that had never held any appeal. Anonymous one night stands had played a part but they were usually hugely dissatisfying, had an attached risk of people desiring more from him than just one night and in reality offered him little more than what he could provide with his own right hand. Also going in self-gratification's favour was that his right hand had no expectation of niceties or cuddling afterwards.

Hannibal squeezed the muscled thigh beneath his free hand, using the other in tandem with his mouth on Will's cock, laving and sucking and stroking and thoroughly enjoying himself whilst doing it. He stared up at Will as he did, occasionally rewarded by a dark gaze meeting his own, and listened intently to the erotic sounds his actions were eliciting, both driving his own arousal higher until he simply had to do something about it. With one last thorough swipe of his tongue, Hannibal released the other man and crawled back up the length of his body only to have Will tug his face to his own and kiss him hard, not stopping until Hannibal was the one to groan.

Eventually pulling back slightly, the older man brushed his nose against Will's, breath falling heavily against the younger man's lips as Will once more met and held his gaze.

"Are you a virgin?" Hannibal asked quietly, voice a rich rumble. He was fairly certain that he wasn't, but given their conversations hadn't covered this particular subject it seemed wise to ask. Will huffed out a breath that could have been a laugh, lips turned up but gaze averted momentarily as he shook his head; there was obviously a story there and he filed his response away for further investigation before kissing him lightly, then climbing off of him and starting across the room. Will's protest at the loss of contact died on his lips as the older man disappeared into the en-suite and re-emerged scant seconds later with a small tube.

Swinging his legs off the bed, Will sat up and reached for him as he returned, hooking his fingers into the red silk at his waist and slowly tugging it down. Hannibal closed his eyes and exhaled as warm fingers curled around his erection, a thumb brushing precum over the sensitive head causing his hips to cant forward into the touch as Will set a steady rhythm, the room silent apart from their breathing.

"How do you want me?"

Hannibal forced his eyes open at the other man's soft words, looking down to find Will staring up at him, need plain on his face.

"On your back," he answered after a brief moment's thought. Relinquishing his hold on him, Will scooted back on the bed and lay down, Hannibal quickly squeezing a generous amount of lube onto the index and middle fingers of one hand before moving to lie down on his side beside him.

Hannibal took his time with the preparations, more time than he had ever bothered with previously and more than was strictly necessary, oddly struck by the vulnerable position Will had placed himself in. He knew Will trusted him, had counted on it, even played on it before, but this was…different. With Will's hand on his cock and three of his own fingers buried inside the other man, his usual standard of coherent thought was somewhat lacking in substance making the exact difference hard to analyse, but it prompted a strange fluttering sensation in his chest that he couldn't quite identify. Will had shifted slightly in discomfort when Hannibal had slipped the first finger into his tight channel and it had bothered him, enough for him to offer a murmured apology and a deep kiss. Eventually he followed with a second, pressing them up until he'd nudged the other man's prostate to compensate for the burn, Will's hips arching off the bed and a quiet curse rolling off his tongue. The third had seen the younger man actively trying to force his fingers deeper but that also bothered Hannibal because it wasn't like him to be so cautious and concerned. Outwardly he might seem it, but the vast majority of the time it was because it was the response expected of him, not because he genuinely felt it. Will was different, he had already established that, but that difference was also a worrying prospect even as the other man lost patience and tugged Hannibal between his open legs.

The thought that perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea crossed his mind even as he lined himself up. Any further thought was taken out of his hands when Will shifted and the head of his cock slid inside the younger man.


	3. Chapter 3

Arms braced either side of his head, Hannibal pushed forward an inch before holding himself still, memorising Will's reaction to the intrusion; the way his eyes slid shut, the way his teeth worried at his bottom lip, the way his hands clutched at his sides to urge him on, fingers pulling and flexing and kneading. The position they were in might not be the easiest or even the most comfortable, but it afforded Hannibal an exquisite view of the other man, one that he stored away carefully along with a mental note to use a 6b pencil.

"Hannibal,"

There was a measure of frustration in Will's voice and the older man obeyed the unspoken instruction with a shallow thrust, then two more until he was fully sheathed within his welcoming body, Will groaning softly at the stretch. This time when he stilled it was less to do with observing the younger man and more to do with controlling himself as he experienced Will's incredible, tight heat for the first time. It was intoxicating and Hannibal leant down and pressed his lips to the younger man's collarbone, brushing his lightly stubbled chin over the skin of his shoulder towards his neck before biting his earlobe, Will's hand coming up to card through his hair.

"What do you need, Will?" his breath was hot against the shell of Will's ear as he quietly spoke into it, causing the other man to shiver and involuntarily tighten around him as Hannibal pulled back and stared hungrily. Will licked his lips, eyes flicking over the older man's features before settling on his chin for a moment. His emotions were gratifyingly easy to read when he raised his blue eyes.

"You," he said, voice catching just slightly. "I need you,"

Singularly lacking in adjectives, that hadn't been the answer he was expecting. Hard, fast, slow, rough maybe…eyes narrowing, Hannibal wanted to growl as he claimed Will's lips with a softness that defied the speed at which he moved, tongue seeking entrance as he shifted his hips for the first time. Withdrawing slightly then pressing back in, Will's words stirred something within him, a tendril of something long buried and forgotten that wrapped around the base of his spine as he started a steady rhythm of unhurried but ever deeper thrusts.

Beneath him, Will made his approval known, a soft and needy noise pulled from the back of his throat as he raked his short nails down the length of the other man's back from shoulder to iliac crest. It was an added dimension of sensation that Hannibal greatly enjoyed, a groan of pleasure reverberating through his chest as his tongue continued to mimic the action of his cock, slowly plundering Will's mouth. The sensory input was a heady combination, scent, sight, sound and touch all fuelling his arousal as he increased the speed of his thrusts, angled his hips a little more but found it insufficient. Breaking the steady stream of kisses, Hannibal balanced on one hand and hooked his other arm under one of Will's bent legs, using the crook of his arm behind his knee to bend it up towards the younger man's chest and instantly changing the angle and depth of penetration to launch an assault on Will's prostate.

"Fuck, Hannibal…"

That was the reaction he wanted. The words came out half choked, one of Will's hands flying upwards to brace himself against the headboard and the other tangling tightly in Hannibal's hair as he adjusted to the new pressure and sensations, awareness narrowing like tunnel vision until the only things he could process were the sweet push and pull where they were joined and the heat pooling low in his stomach.

Hannibal observed him from under lowered lashes, fringe partly obscuring his view but not enough to detract from the vision that Will presented as he withdrew almost completely and powerfully drove back in, burying himself to the hilt. Whilst Will was indeed on the underfed side of trim, there was a level of definition to him that was undeniably pleasing and probably one of the reasons that he hid away under layers of plaid as he did. It hadn't escaped Hannibal's attention that Will dressed to blend in, to be unassuming and forgettable, invisible, another defence mechanism just like the glasses that he knew without being told Will didn't really need. The muscles of his arms and shoulders were toned, similarly his pectorals with their light covering of dark hair that trailed down invitingly over his stomach where there were abdominals evident that when paired with the muscles of his thighs and calves indicated he most likely ran fairly regularly. Hannibal could see him on the trails through the woods near his house, running to clear his head, to replace the unsettled emotions in his body with the physical burn of lactic acid, perhaps a dog or two in tow.

He had surrounded himself with beautiful things his entire adult life, from the day it had been within his means to do so he'd had the best he could afford of everything: food; wine; clothes; art. He had enjoyed the most exclusive performances of renowned classical works, entertained in royal boxes at the opera and dined in the best restaurants on almost every continent. His home was the epitome of good taste, his car a Bentley and his wrist-watch a Fabergé. A lavish and sophisticated lifestyle with virtually nothing that he desired out of his reach, in that instant all of it paled into comparison when he considered Will. Awkward, gifted Will, hot and sweaty beneath him, so responsive, conveying his pleasure and his need in response to the older man's every movement with a delightful range of expressions and sounds.

It was breath-taking.

_He_ was breath-taking.

Ducking his head, Hannibal flicked his tongue over a pert, pink nipple, hips moving more quickly and the first signs of exertion showing on his body. Perspiration now sat in his hair line and there was a light sheen in the dip between his jutting shoulder blades as he held himself above the other man, licking and tasting and kissing. He wanted to devour Will, figuratively speaking at least, take him to the brink until the only name he knew was Hannibal's, before sending him crashing over.

"Touch yourself," Hannibal instructed against his skin somewhat breathlessly, gaze flicking up to Will's. He was aware of his own limitations given the situation; stamina was not something he lacked by any means, but there was no escaping the fact that this was not going to last, the friction on his cock and the way that Will tightened around him with each nudge to his prostate delicious - coupled with the fact that this was _Will,_ it gave rise to the first subtle hints of his own orgasm. Lips delicately parted, Will obeyed without hesitation, slipping a hand between them and wrapping it around his own aching cock with a groan to instantly begin stroking himself.

This was not going to be a one-off.

No matter the warnings in his mind, there was no way that he would willingly surrender this contact with Will now that he'd experienced it. He would have Will again, and again; even if in the cold light of day the other man was uncertain of that fact, Hannibal would not be. He didn't want to completely break his spirit (or his mind for that matter, after all there was very little fun in a subject without free will) but there was no doubt in Hannibal's slightly hazy thinking that he had bent him enough to ensure that by the time he had finished with him Will would crave repeats, if only in his efforts to escape his own tortured nightmares. Whatever the explanation for their current embrace on Will's part, even if it were simply fear and desperation, Hannibal would welcome it again like a starving man at a banquet. And he would eat his fill.

Will steadily fisted himself, back arching and head tipped back on the pillow as he submitted to sensation. Hannibal dove down to press his tongue against the pulse point in his throat and felt the life thrumming through his veins, lapping at his skin with flat, broad strokes as he grazed his adam's apple with his teeth, enjoying the way the younger man convulsively swallowed and his hand sped up at the contact. Tempo steadily increasing, Hannibal continued to fluidly roll his hips, aware of the tell-tale ache forming low in his abdomen as the nails of Will's free hand ran over his shoulders and neck and scratched lightly at his scalp. Bracing on the arm keeping Will's leg bent, he pulled back slightly to better alleviate his own need with shallower thrusts that stimulated the head of his erection and simultaneously ran his hand down between them to encompass Will's cock in his grip. It was something that Will happily allowed, groaning as the older man's warm hand replaced his own and began to tug in time to the motion of his hips.

Will was close, the scent of arousal emanating from him carrying a distinctly sharper edge as Hannibal expertly led him to the edge. He revelled in the heavy breaths leaving the younger man's lungs and the low groans and murmurs drawn from his throat, watching the entrancing play of emotions dancing across his face through dark, hungry eyes. Craning his neck, he licked at Will's top lip before kissing him thoroughly for a moment, his own breath coming in staccato bursts. Heavy-lidded gazes met, breath mingling, and when he spoke, Hannibal's voice was rough with need in a way that he couldn't remember hearing from himself before.

"Come for me, Will,"

Surging up to kiss him, Will took the permission given to let go, unnecessary though it was; granted, Hannibal sought to be in control in most things, but he could not envisage ever denying Will his release, it wasn't one of his particular kinks. In fact for a cannibalistic serial killer, the older man guessed that he was probably surprisingly vanilla and conventional in his tastes. Will was panting into his mouth, one hand gripping the back of Lecter's neck and the other wrapped around his strong bicep as he tensed and came hard enough to grey out for at least a few seconds, the older man continuing to stroke him and coaxing every ounce of sensation out of the experience.

Witnessing Will come apart was all that Hannibal needed to hasten his own release, letting go of his now softening cock to instead find better purchase on the bed as his rhythm faltered for the first time. Only seconds later tension welcomingly gripped the base of his spine and he came with a groan that bordered on being a growl, thrusting into Will's warmth with decreasing urgency as he rode out his pleasure. Breathing hard but spent and satiated, Hannibal released the younger man's leg and took the pressure off his arms, pressing his forehead against the other man's shoulder and draping himself over his body to catch his breath. When the haze had lifted enough for completely coherent thoughts to return, as opposed to the semi-formed ones that had coloured the preceding 20 minutes, he pushed up on his arms again to look at the man embracing him and frowned.


	4. Chapter 4

Although Will's arms were tightly wrapped around him and one hand still buried in Hannibal's hair he had turned his head away and his eyes were tightly closed, forehead creased with a mixture of shame and uncertainty as if expecting the older man to pull away in regret. Or disgust. Neither could have been further from the truth, and whilst the situation almost sang to his manipulative urges it wasn't a song that he had any desire to harmonise with.

Still catching his breath, Hannibal considered his options.

If he wanted the night's events to reoccur, which he unquestionably did, then he needed to play the situation appropriately otherwise Will would run from him, and Hannibal strongly suspected that if Will ran now, on the back of what had just occurred he would never willingly return. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth that he put down to the effort that would be wasted if he were unsuccessful, the months of careful grooming and manipulating squandered in the space of half an hour, even if the night's activities had not been part of his plan. Distanced from Hannibal, Will would be more open, more able to see his true nature - should he fail to reassure him, things could take a rather unsavoury turn in the not too distant future and that thought sat like a lead weight in his stomach…keeping that in mind, and knowing that not only would Will be fully aware of his gaze on him but that it was most likely only heightening his distress, Hannibal opted for the course of action that called to him the loudest.

"Will,"

Garnering no response other than Will's body going tense beneath him, Hannibal braced himself on his left arm and took the other man's stubbled jaw lightly in his right hand, turning his face towards his own. Almost nose to nose, he could feel Will's breath coming faster against his face, smell the panic beginning to take root.

"Will," he offered again, making his tone as warm and soft as he could. It didn't take much effort.

Just when Hannibal thought he wouldn't, after a long moment Will opened his eyes and stared into his own maroon depths. Whilst the fear found in his gaze told Hannibal he'd had to force himself to do it, he had done it all the same, the odd fluttering in his chest from earlier making an appearance, strangely pleasant and distracting. Holding his gaze, Hannibal slowly pressed his lips to Will's and let the contact linger, noses brushing: the surprise and relief that flooded through the younger man was endearing as blue eyes went wide momentarily and his breath left him in a rush, tension ebbing from his body in the process. A moment more and he returned the kiss, lips gently moving against Hannibal's and his fingers hesitantly combing through the other man's hair.

Hannibal said nothing as he slowed the kiss and withdrew out of Will, gently disentangling himself from their embrace with a small smile that he found he didn't have to fake and gracefully slipping from the bed to pad towards the en suite, aware of Will's eyes on him all the way. He returned with a warm washcloth a minute or two later and carefully wiped the younger man down, starting with his neck and chest that still glistened with sweat before moving lower to clean away the evidence of their pleasure. A shower would have been preferable, but glancing at Will from underneath his fringe as he worked told him that would have to wait until the morning; the other man was fighting a losing battle with sleep even as his gaze bore into the top of Hannibal's bent head as he continued his ministrations. The cloth returned to the bathroom, Hannibal retrieved his pyjamas from where they'd unceremoniously landed beside the bed and slipped into the pants but forwent the still damp shirt. Will was just settling himself on to his side on the driest area of sheets he could find when a bare-chested Hannibal extended a hand towards him, not letting the annoyance that Will thought so little of himself, not to mention his own manners, show on his face.

"Come,"

It was an order disguised as a request, a technique of which Hannibal was an expert and had been using for years in both of his guises to great effect. A more subtle, abstract approach was generally more beneficial with Will, caused in no small part by the fact that he had spent much of his life being analysed and told what to do; when coupled with his empathy, it was a ready recipe for distrust and anger. Hannibal hadn't been given access to Will's file when Jack had asked for his input, had been offered nothing but the most basic details, and he imagined Will would be greatly angered to know the layers of information the Bureau held on him. The supposed background information that had been gleaned through 'unofficial channels' as part of the screening process was little more than bawdy rumour and conjecture, something Hannibal had discovered by chance whilst waiting alone in Jack's office one afternoon, and he had deliberately bypassed the most recent information - reading between the lines had given him some unexpected insights into the younger man's formative years. Had his father cared enough to intervene, Will would have ended up in therapy long before he eventually at his own behest had in his teens, unmitigated disaster though that had turned out to be. All things considered, it was a wonder that Will hadn't ended up completely dysfunctional, empathy or no. And a testament to his considerable inner strength. Therefore, there was a certain sense of achievement when Will slipped from the bed with only a slight hesitation, but there was also a vague sense of disappointment and Hannibal hoped that Will wasn't going to make things too easy for him in the wake of their new experience.

Manners on their own would have dictated that Hannibal lead him to one of the other immaculately prepared guest suites, it was something infinitely more personal although not thoroughly understood that prompted Lecter to wordlessly lead him the short distance down the hall to stop outside the master bedroom. Pushing open the door, he reached for one of the dimmer switches on the wall and brought the wall lights up to half strength, the soft lighting banishing the darkest of the shadows in the room. Will remained frozen in the doorway as Hannibal crossed to a mahogany chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of black, cotton pants with ties at the waist.

Stood on the threshold of the other man's room and clad in just his damp shorts, Will wrapped his arms around himself in a near desperate embrace and wondered not for the first time whether this was all just a hallucination. There was fear attached to the thought, fear that the connection he'd experienced with Hannibal was all just a figment of his fragmenting mind and he'd come to cold and alone in Wolf Trap. But the fear that this was real clawed at him equally as Hannibal slowly padded back towards him, apparently as in tune with his fears as ever if the carefully neutral expression on his face was anything to go by. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Will took three paces forward to meet the other man's approach.

"Is this real?"

Hannibal inclined his head at the question, carefully moved past Will to push the door closed before returning to stand in front of him, close enough to touch him although he refrained from doing so for a moment.

"Yes,"

"Oh," was all Will offered, but his lips turned up just very slightly and a light shined in his blue eyes. Hannibal mirrored his expression, let some of the warmth he felt for the other man show and slowly reached up to lay a hand upon his shoulder, squeezing gently. He felt rather than heard Will's exhale at the contact, the younger man tilting his head towards his own shoulder until his cheek was pressed against the back of Hannibal's hand. The older man reassessed the notion of the light in his eyes being purely emotion as he noted that Will felt feverish, probably the reason why he was doubting something that he hadn't at the time. The fevered sweetness that underpinned Will's scent was so ingrained in his nose now that unless he wanted to discern it, it mostly went unnoticed.

"You need to sleep, Will," Hannibal intoned softly.

Will glanced towards the large bed that dominated the room, the light in his eyes not caused by fever rapidly dying and his teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he apparently considered the prospect of sharing Hannibal's bed.

"As do I," he added, using guilt to manipulate the younger man. Will would cave anyway, but he was not averse to hastening the process along. "I thought you might appreciate these,"

Hannibal handed Will the pants, turned the hand trapped beneath his cheek to lightly stroke his face before withdrawing and crossing towards his walk-in closet. Once there he pulled two dark towels from a shelf just inside the door then moved to the bed, pulling back the covers and placing them over one half of the mattress and one pillow in the same way that he'd noted Will did at home. Much though the prospect of Will sharing his bed was unfathomably enticing and sheets could easily be washed, the towels would alleviate the worst of Will's sweating and hopefully make him feel more comfortable about the situation. It was a calculated move and as expected, gratitude coloured the younger man's expression when Hannibal turned towards him. Eyes roaming over Will, the psychiatrist allowed himself to swallow as he noted the way that the black cotton sleep wear he had given the younger man hung low on his hips even with the ties, and fleetingly wondered about his own recovery time. Given the way he normally controlled his physical responses and expressions with ease, Hannibal was a touch surprised that he had to consciously resist the reflex to clear his throat. Stepping back from the bed, he gestured towards it with an open palm and waited.

Will shifted uneasily and glanced away towards the dark world outside the window for a long moment as he contemplated the request, but Hannibal didn't have a single doubt about him complying and patience was something the he had in abundance. He was aware, however, that Will was so far out of his established comfort zones he would have to be careful not to push him too far; this web he had begun to weave was far more fragile than the one he'd previously envisaged, but also far more beautiful.

Eventually Will came to his conclusion, preordained though it was, slowly raising his gaze to Hannibal's as he made his way to the side of the bed and climbed in, a small contented noise escaping him as he settled into the mattress on his side, one hand resting by his head on the pillow and the other tucked near his chin. Hannibal pulled the covers up to his chest, letting his fingers lightly graze his skin as he did to leave shivers and goose-bumps in his wake even as Will let his eyes fall closed.

It took Hannibal less than a minute to turn off the lights and slip into bed beside him, keeping plenty of distance between himself and Will's back. In the light of the moon coming through the windows, he could make out the tense line of the other man's shoulder, heard the slightly hurried sound of his breathing. It was obvious Will was scared, but there was something else in the way that he held himself.

Since moving to the US, on the occasions Hannibal had opted for another's company he had never taken anyone into his bed, choosing instead to make the drive to DC and the upmarket hotels there rather than risk complications locally. Taking a seat at the bar, more often than not they came to him, drawn by his appearance and demeanour and the subtle signs he knew to give out to show that he was looking for a companion for the night. That wasn't to say he wasn't discerning in the partners he chose, but the propositions were usually plentiful and he always got what he went for – a willing, face down body that he could use to nullify the need for more than masturbation. Buying them drinks, he never divulged more than his first name, effortlessly steering conversation around his victims instead until he sensed that they would be receptive to continuing things in more comfortable surroundings. He used kisses sparingly and only for the purpose of exerting control, to shape the encounter into what he wanted, the men in his grasp too focused on their own desire to realise they were being played. Once or twice they had found their way to his plate when he had found them to be exceptionally rude once upstairs, but generally the encounters had nothing to do with his other proclivities, these men victims of another sort. Once spent he would perfunctorily complete the transaction but never with anything other than his hands, before quickly making his excuses of an early flight out of Dulles to return to Europe and leaving them still somewhat dazed. The pattern had never deviated, never altered and never satisfied the tiny, quiet yearning for something more that Hannibal viciously squashed whenever he became aware of it.

Lying beside Will, listening to him try and control his breathing, the yearning braved a glimpse over its parapets and not for the first time in recent weeks Hannibal allowed it without retaliating, letting it settle in the pit of his stomach. It was a foreign, uncomfortable sensation but as he lay there it gave him clarity, at least about what Will needed even though it raised more questions about himself.

"Breathe, Will," Hannibal murmured as Will's chest stilled when he carefully tugged the other man back against him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his palm against his chest. For a long second there was silence but then Will obeyed, a shuddering breath giving way to him pressing back against Hannibal, almost burrowing into his warmth as he sought the comfort and contact he'd been craving for years. Pressing a feather-light kiss to the nape of the younger man's neck, Hannibal closed his eyes and inhaled his scent deeply before letting his mind drift, the weight and warmth of the body moulded to his a new but definitely not unpleasant experience.

No, this had not been his design. But as Will drifted off to sleep in his arms, Hannibal was acutely aware that it did not mean it wasn't one he could appreciate.

~ Fin


End file.
